When I heard that I had to write about wild animals this week [Editor’s Note: You assigned the topic, Curtis] I was honestly quite torn. I could have written about the Chupacabra, the mythical South American monster that kills livestock. I could have written about penguins again, those loveable birds incapable of flight, in particular my only friend, Walter. I could have written about the walrus, whose overall physique is generally only matched by its terrible Features articles. Or I could have written about Jared Cheatham ’07. Nevertheless, I chose to avoid writing about all of these worthy topics after discovering of a far superior idea. Now, please, just hear me out. We all know that the Sanctuary is an underutilized space. It is seldom entered by students other than amorous freshmen, crack addicts, and the cross country team. Intrinsically, there are hundreds of acres of wasted land just sitting there, serving no purpose. Now normally at this point my capitalistic idealism would overcome my greater sense of the value of natural resources, and I would suggest that a strip mall be built on site. Yet after speaking it over with various confidantes of mine, I designed a far better solution. The only way that the administration can bring the Sanctuary up to par would be for it to purchase a lion. And not just some sissy zoo lion that sits around all day, snacking on steak tartare and having “lights out” time with girl lions. I’m talking about Aslan, creator of Narnia and ruler of all that is good. Or rather, I’m talking about a lion the equivalent of Aslan, except that instead of purchasing an intrinsically good-natured lion, I would recommend purchasing an inherently evil lion that eats people. Having a man-eating lion in the sanctuary would benefit the Phillips Academy community in many ways [Editor’s Note: You will soon find out that by many, he meant three]. For starters, its presence would effectively engender the end of all drug abuse in the sanctuary. Consider an addict, tripping balls and already a little on edge. Now consider that same addict tripping over himself in a crack-cocaine induced stupor as he (unsuccessfully) attempts to flee from a three hundred and fifty pound killing machine in hot pursuit. After Cracky has returned to his dorm with at least one fewer appendage, and after his peers have been forced to call sanctuary on him so that he does expire due to massive blood loss, I feel that, with the myriad of gossip-mongers on campus, the once popular “Crack-Smack in the Sanctuary” would quickly lose its appeal. Not only would drug abuse on campus decrease, all other Blue Book infractions would cease as well. The lion’s presence would signify the glorious return of capital punishment to prepatory school, hopefully creating enough fear within the student body so as to successfully eliminate all tomfoolery and general rule breaking. I can only speak for myself, but I am sure that I would be far less likely to break a rule (granted, I never break school rules anyways ; – ) ) if I was aware that the punishment awaiting me was an almost certain and definitely painful death. The way I picture the Sanctuary upon the lion’s establishment as its protector is similar to the way that the Labyrinth was on Crete before Theseus killed the Minotaur. People would enter, but they would rarely leave. Or rather, what remained of them would leave medium-rare and probably half eaten. Except that, in this case, there would be no Ariadne to assist Theseus, and thus the lion would reign forever as its king. Pointedly, this would mean that Theseus would not be able to leave Ariadne on an uninhabited island while she slept, as before, but that’s something that I at least am willing to sacrifice. Notably, the lion would not have to be exclusively a machine of punishment. His mauling of those unfortunates who chose to ignore Blue Book regulations and, as a side note, probably didn’t support Marlys Edwards’ reappointment as Dean of Students, could also serve as a form of entertainment for the remainder of the student body. In layman’s terms, they could watch. And, in the spirit of the gladiatorial shows at the Roman Coliseum, Commons workers could throw them bread-loaves in order that they not realize the terrible plight and oppressive conditions to which they have become accustomed.
